Tell Me No More Lies
by Myrime
Summary: They learnt that nothing is unbreakable. And, suddenly, they can't look each other in the eye anymore. - Remus/Sirius


Tell Me No More Lies

_Things change. People leave. Life doesn't stop for anybody._  
(The Perks Of Being A Wallflower, Stephen Chbosky)

* * *

He is drunk. But that, Remus ponders, isn't a bad thing at all, because a sober Sirius Black would have never come to him these days. He smells the alcohol before he hears the desperate knock on the door.

"Moony?" the black haired man croaks, smiling despite the scowl on his friends face. "I couldn't be alone tonight."

And all illusions Remus might have had crash at those words. Sirius isn't here for _him_, he just has nowhere else to go.

Banning the truth from his mind he steps aside to let the other boy in, still not saying a word. This isn't a night for talk.

They sit in the dark, passing a bottle back and forth, trying to remember and to forget at the same time. And when Sirius gets up and holds out a hand, Remus follows, because, really, what else is there to do, and he feels so lonely and once this had been so right so how can it feel wrong all of a sudden?

They are still Moony and Padfoot, aren't they? Deep down, hidden beneath doubts and distrust, and Werewolf and Black. They are still the same boys who had shared a dorm and a mind and every secret they possessed, the same Marauders who had lived for the next prank, the next ingenious idea, the next unbelievable adventure, the same brothers who had sworn to stay together and change the world.

Only they hadn't thought about growing up and fighting a war.

Of James marrying and founding a family and being _responsible_ and having to hide.

Of Peter not being around anymore and having a job that takes all his time and a dying mother who takes all his patience and strength.

Of Sirius being as reckless as always and risking his head at every given second and becoming the new auror prodigy and dancing with death as if he is invincible.

Of Remus struggling to earn his living because the world just doesn't accept werewolves, not even if they are smarter and kinder and more talented than most 'normal' people and part of a secret order to save them all from the upcoming darkness.

And of course they didn't think of having a traitor in their midst. And who would blame them, they were only children, after all, playing at war – and plainly losing.

But for some precious, stolen moments, none of that matters. They are Moony and Padfoot and they hold onto each other, even if Remus and Sirius can't look each other in the eye anymore, and Lupin and Black outright despise the other, calling the brother-turned-stranger a traitor and secretly blaming him for all that went wrong.

There in the dark, they can pretend that none of this had happened, that their wings hadn't been broken somewhere along the way.

Still, neither of them sleeps, afraid of letting go, of waking and finding it a dream. They lie next to each other for hours, not really touching, but close enough to feel the other's body heat, to hear the second heartbeat, right in tact with their own.

They don't move and they don't speak, not willing to face reality any sooner than they have to. And, some moments, they come close to spilling their hearts out, to talk about what troubles them, to confess, to set it all right.

They never do.

"Why are you here?" Remus asks eventually, when he is sure he can't stand the silence any longer. What he means is: '_Where were you yesterday and all the nights before?'_

He never gets an answer and somehow that's alright (_liar_) because it has been like this for forever now.

And he wants to scream '_Look at me'_ and '_Touch me as if I mean something to you'_ and '_Stop ripping my heart apart as if it is nothing to you.'_

And of course there's '_I love you'_ and '_Don't leave me again'._

But he won't ever say that because, dammit, they've already fallen so far and he doesn't think they will ever be able to piece themselves together again.

He decides he is done waiting for all the things he knows won't come (_smiles and promises and bittersweet forevers_) and gets up, not caring that he pulls the blanket from Sirius' body. Remus can practically feel the goose bumps appear on the unmarred skin he used to know as well as his own.

(And wasn't there a time when simply being in each other's presence made goose bumps climb their arms and necks and – but he wouldn't know that because those boys are dead and gone and buried beneath lies and war and not-being-able-to-change-one-damned-thing.)

He finds the almost empty bottle of fire whiskey next to the bed, right where they had left it when they had finally been drunk enough to stop being Remus and Sirius, to being able to bear touching each other again.

There's still enough liquid left to burn away all the words rising in his throat – the _why_s and _how_s and never-ending accusations, born of those stupid dreams of _what-could-have-been_s.

Grabbing his carelessly discarded clothes, Remus dresses on his way to the door, not once bothering to look back.

"You coming to the Order meeting tonight?" Sirius' voice sounds detached, as if making polite conversation with some old, hardly known acquaintance he met on the street, not a one-time brother he had, not so long ago, sworn his love to.

"No. Full moon," Remus shrugs, seemingly not caring either, but the stiff line of his shoulders cries '_You should know that_.'

"Oh."

Remus smirks, though inside is chest something shatters (_again_). "Why would you care?"

And he never hears the unspoken '_I'm sorry'_ and '_I'll be there for you'_ and_ 'I _do_ care'_ – and he would have known them for lies anyway.

His hand touches the door knob and, suddenly, he doesn't want to leave, doesn't want to run and hide and nurse his hurt pride and betrayed trust.

Instead, he wants turn around, get out of his clothes once again and bury himself in the too-soft blanket he just left, feeling the warmth of another living body, clinging to that illusion they had, that beautiful, mind-blowing, world-changing feeling of '_together'_, of '_the world is at our feet'_, of '_never alone again'_.

But he can't. That time is over, if it had ever really been there.

And if Sirius notices his inner struggle he doesn't react, doesn't even acknowledge that Remus is still there – and he probably wouldn't care if he wasn't.

Finally Remus shakes himself out of his stupor, cursing himself a fool for not being able to stop caring – because when had caring ever made anything better?

He steps out of the dark, rundown one-room-apartment he can't really afford, knowing that, when he comes back, Sirius would be gone and with him all evidence that he had ever been there. But his scent would linger in the sheets and curtains and the heavy air, and Moony would rage inside his mind, calling out for the big black dog he had called family, but no one would come, and he would hurt and long for all the things that were lost.

* * *

Sirius watches him leave, too worn, too tired to jump up and run after him and hold him in his arms to never let go again.

He wants to say '_We'll make it all right again'_ and '_Don't go'_ and '_I love you'_. But he's tired of all the lies, of doubting and fighting and everything going to hell.

Hesitating only a split second, he lights a cigarette, knowing it will irritate Remus to no end, but he just can't bring himself to care. He left him here, after all, and he feels miserable and the bed is cold and empty and he should really get going but nothing ever seems to get better.

They are only twenty-one but Sirius feels old and torn and ready to give up. And he wonders if that is what Remus feels like after the full moon, hurt and helpless and lost in a prison he just can't escape.

But it doesn't matter. Dawn is coming and he has a role to play: always in-control auror Black and never-caring Order member Sirius. There was no place there for not-strong-enough Padfoot anymore.

Sighing he gets up, gathering his clothes and snatching up the bottle only to throw it away disappointed upon finding it empty.

He tries very hard to stop thinking about last night. It doesn't help that the small room, while worn-down and shabby, was undeniably _Remus'_. As neat as possible, books piling everywhere, and Padfoot's heightened senses can trace the lingering scent of the sandy-haired boy.

It reminds him of the flat they had all but shared right after graduation. While Remus was so very adamant on not wanting any charity and getting his own 'home' he had spent almost every night at Sirius', not that he had cared. They had belonged together, after all. Only they had lost that, too, somewhere along the way.

He shakes his head, that sort of thinking is dangerous. There is a reason everything had played out this way, no matter how much it hurts at times. As a Black he should have known that things had been too good to be true. Hadn't his mother always preached that friendship was nothing but an illusion that would bring him down someday? It seems she had been right at last.

Oblivious to Remus having the same struggle only moments before, he finds himself unable to go. There are so many things left unspoken between them, so many lies they should set right. So he sits back down on the bed, closing his eyes and trying to figure out what he wants to say.

Right when he runs out of patience – foremost for himself, because their former trust can't be restored by some words, even more so, because he already isn't so sure anymore he _wants_ to talk – the door opens and Remus enters again, soaked and seemingly miserable. Upon seeing him, he frowns.

"What are you still doing here?"

Sirius' shoulders stiffen, but had he looked up he might have seen the faint glimmer of hope in the amber eyes trained on him. He might have even heard the silent '_Are you going to stay?'_

"Don't worry," he starts coldly, "I was just on my way out." He suddenly feels very defensive, cursing himself for that blasted moment of sentimentality that made him stay.

"I don't –" For a moment Remus seems lost, but then he straightens up, his face a blank mask again. "Good, because I still need some rest before tonight." _I don't mind you being here._

"Far be it for me to keep you from your well-deserved sleep." Sirius scoffs. "You could have thrown me out any time yesterday." _I wish I could make you feel better._

Remus flinches but all thoughts of reconciliation are wiped from Sirius' mind.

"What excuse will you have for the next Order meeting?" he hates himself for the words before they even leave his mouth.

"Are you so desperate to blame someone else for your shortcomings that you have to steep so low?" Remus asks scathingly and turns away, leaving the door open in an obvious attempt to make him leave.

And, not knowing how to mend things between them, or if he even wanted to do so, he does, locking the rising '_I'm sorry'_ that threatens to choke him behind the pureblood-sneer his parents had beaten into him.

Only after his back is to his one-time friend does he allow his mask to falter. No matter what he thinks and suspects, seeing them fall apart hurt. They weren't meant to end like this.

_Marauders_ had meant forever. But Marauders had also meant trust and not letting each other down, and everyone can see that those times are long gone.

* * *

Remus stands in silence, staring at the empty space his former friend had occupied mere seconds ago. He truly wonders how they had fallen so far, how they had come from invincible-friends-for-life to distrustful-strangers-aiming-to-hurt-with-every-word. And Sirius' behaviour _does_ hurt.

Still, he can't help but miss the black-haired boy, the easy companionship they had shared. He knows this night will be bad, Moony will rage and howl and search for those he had once called his pack. But then again, most nights are difficult these days.

Some nights Remus, with a bitter-sweet smile gracing his lips, remembers four boys who thought they could take on the world.

Some nights he grieves four too-old men who haven't really lived yet but already know they can't even save themselves.

And some nights Sirius is there and they hold onto each other, not caring for all the scars and walls that separate them now.

And they don't talk because there are already enough lies in their world.

And they get up before the sun rises so they don't have to look each other in the eye.

And they go their separate ways, careful not to think about how they had set out together, how they had all walked the same path once.

But somewhere it had all went wrong. There is no _they_ anymore. They had fallen and they had burnt.

And they know that, in those nights, they create an illusion, a mere shadow of what they've been. But somehow it is enough to make them go on for just another day.

* * *

Thanks for reading. A review would really make my day!


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